You Say Tomato
by OrangePlum
Summary: England had just said something very embarrassing. America can't deal with this properly. What should he do? He's not used to dirty talking.


Author's Notes: I wanted to do a short story where America translates England's harsh/mean words into his head as something romantic. So when England says "git" or "bloody moron" or things like that, it translates to "I love you" or something of the equivalent in America's mind.

Enjoy.

* * *

When the two conference doors burst open, nearly tearing off of their hinges, everyone didn't even have to look to know it was America.

The blonde nation had his lip between his teeth, eyes panicked and frantic as he tripped over his feet, unable to accomplish something as easily as walking in a straight line. "S-someone. I need to talk to someone!" he shouted, not taking notice of the few glares cast his way for interrupting their conversations. Seeing heads turn to the nation chewing at his fingers like slim jims did little to quell his nerves.

When glistening blue eyes snagged onto the most familiar face in the room, America scurried over to Japan with a gulp. "Kiku! Kiku, great – great to see you? Can I sit here? Thanks," he blurted out with a wavering smile before Japan could even open his mouth to respond. The dark-haired nation let his eyes drift curiously down to America's leg which was bouncing a mile a second.

"Alfred-san? Are you alri–"

"Never better!" Alfred laughed, though it sounded suspiciously like a jumbled sob. Japan raised an eyebrow. Alfred crinkled his face up to try and plaster on his typical smile but it ended up looking more fake like Joan Rivers or something. "Gosh, you're such a swell friend, Kiku. The best. I know you are smarter than your dinky brother, China over there."

China frowned.

Japan blinked before his inky eyes looked slightly annoyed. "Former brother," he corrected, ignoring the pout China gave him at that.

Alfred waved his hands dismissively, knee knocking against the table. "Right, right. Don't wanna get too specific, right?" he nudged Japan with his elbow.

"…Do you perhaps need anything, Alfred-san?"

The false charade fell away instantly, Alfred toppling over on himself and gripping at Japan's jacket uncaring of the spectacle he was making. Japan's face heated up in embarrassment when America proceeded to whine. "Oh, I don't know what to do! Help me, Kiku! Help meeeheeeheee…"

"P-please pull yourself together." Japan grasped his friends hands that were tugging at his shirt. "_Please_."

"What is this? Is there something tres interesting going on here?" France asked, leaning in from his spot two seats over.

Alfred peeked up from his friend's shirt as his hands were slapped away, Japan moving back in on himself to get away from America's octopus-like appendages. America seemed to hesitate a moment before nodding fervently.

"I need someone to tell me what to do."

France blinked, his cheek propped easily on his palm. "Oh? Why?"

The rapid fidgeting resumed. "I…" Words clogged America's throat as he rung his hands together on the tabletop. "I…"

Japan tilted his head, wanting to know what could make the ever so carefree American a blob of unproductive goo. Well…he was always unproductive goo. But now he was unproductive goo with sweaty hands and red ears.

"Englandjustoldmehelovedme-andnowI'mdyingsaveme!"

Both nations blinked at how quickly America had spoken. Were those even words? Germany pretended to be interested in the papers in front of him but glanced up over them at the spectacle. What? Couldn't Germans be curious too? It wasn't a crime or anything!

"Amérique…Would you mind repeating that?" France asked with ease.

"Alfred-san?"

America sighed in frustration and ran a hand over his face.

"He said that England said that he loves him and he needs someone to save him."

America, Germany, France, and Japan popped their heads up, looking around for the figure who just enlightened them. "Who said that?" America asked, his temporary panic stalling.

A sigh and a raised hand. A blonde hunkered down in a chair shook his head. "Me…I'm Canada."

America stared at him. "…Who?"

"Your brother."

America paused. "…Right. When did you get here?"

"I was here the whole time. You sat on me when I came in…I had to move seats," Canada explained passively.

"Ah, yes. I remember. I was aware of your presence the whole time Matthieu," France smiled smoothly. Canada sighed; he was used to this already. France turned his eyes back to America, already losing interest in the quieter blonde beside him. "If I heard you correctly, you said Angleterre confessed, oui?"

A garbled noise escaped America's throat as he buried his face into his palms. "Help me…What do I do. I don't know what to do. I'm so tingly and there's a balloon in my chest and I can't breathe. And I'm _dyiiiiing_," he wailed overdramatically making Germany roll his eyes.

Was that it? Bah. He needed better things to entertain himself aside from fellow blonde idiots in world conferences and his stupid brother at home who had suddenly taken up a weird hobby of ripping the potted plants out of the pots and leaving them in the hallway. He grumbled. Idiots.

France chuckled to himself. "So he finally said it, hm? About time. It has been painful the last few years seeing the two of you. I'm just surprised that it was Angleterre who took the first step."

America narrowed his eyes suspiciously from the safety of his arms. "…What is it exactly that you're trying to say?"

Japan shut his eyes and shook his head. "Denseness can be a very poor trait to carry, Alfred-san."

"Read the atmosphere," Germany added gruffly, tapping the papers together against the tabletop in annoyance.

A snort. "I already tried to do that but the library is out of that right now. I have it on hold."

Ugh. _Idiots._

"Al, just…what did you do?" Canada asked curiously, petting his bear in his lap. Alfred let his eyes settle on his brother for a moment before he pulled his lips together in a thin line.

"I screamed and ran away."

All three nations stared at the American with a regard of perplexity. They were all probably thinking the same thing, _How is someone like this allowed outside of a mental institution?_

"That's not a normal thing to do…" Canada muttered, looking away. It was almost painful to look at his brother with how stupid he could be. He felt some pity for England at the moment. He didn't know what he would do if he confessed to someone and they screamed and ran away. Indigo eyes glanced hesitantly towards the balking Frenchman before zipping back to his bear, a flush to his cheeks.

"That's why I'm asking for help. Tell me what to do," America pleaded. "This is Arthur we're talking about. Musty, old, grumpy, raving drunk, sewing, fairy princess _Arthur_. I don't know how to handle this. I can't see him anymore." Alfred gasped in horror. "I can never go back to that Motel 6 or the office on the third floor."

The nations became silent once more. That sounded very suspicious. What kind of activities could America and England have encountered in…?

Germany covered his hand over his mouth, his eyes nearly falling out of his head. That was _his_ office and they…they…! He'd just been up there too. He'd sprayed Febreeze in the salty air. He'd touched the _desk_.

Oh, he would never recover.

Just then, as if some higher being had found this whole situation amusing, England strolled into the room casually, not a hair out of place on his messy head. He had a folder under his arm and scouted the room until his eyes landed on the frozen American sitting around a patch of particularly obnoxious nations. Or perhaps he was just thinking of France.

"Alfred," he called out casually, making his way over. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Where the devil did you run off to?"

Alfred opened and closed his mouth with no sound, looking like a gasping fish out of water. England quirked a massive eyebrow. "I'm supposed to give this to you. You asked me for it when we were on the third floor the other day." England perplexedly glanced at Germany as the man dryheaved. "…Yes. Well."

America made no move to grab the folder. England frowned. "Well aren't you going to take it?"

Nothing but everyone staring at him. England narrowed his eyes skeptically before taking a step closer to America. "Alfred–"

"I can't believe you said that out of the blue! Uncool, England!" America shrieked and nearly tumbled out of his chair to lean away, face alight. England blinked.

"Said what?"

France let a sly smile slither on his lips before looking knowingly up at England. "That you love the boy, of course."

Now it was England's turn to look like a gasping fish. "Wh – wha…what in the name of n– wh…how – _P-pardon_?"

Japan nodded to clarify. England frowned indignantly looking like a ripe tomato. "When? When did this occur? I don't recall this ever – Alfred, are you spreading lies again? I told you to stop that immediately when you said I was born with a tail!"

"You said it," America argued. "Don't blame me. I'm not lying."

"Of course you are!" England gaped. "You bloody tosser, I don't–"

America's face exploded like the Fourth of July, cheeks red like a sunburn. He pointed accusingly. "There! There, you see! You said it again!"

England sputtered, looking around amongst the eyes watching him in confusion. "What – I never–"

"I have witnesses now. God, England. You're so g-darn embarrassing."

A harsh intake of air filled the Briton's lungs before he growled, teeth bared back in a snarl. "Now listen here you blasted twat–"

"_Again_! Stop it!" America protested and plugged his ears. England balked, looking desperately between the nations watching this display.

He fought to find his words. "I'm – but I'm not..."

France peered between Japan, Germany, and whatshisname before smirking. He ran a hand smoothly over his bangs. "You're quite the romanticist, Angleterre. An open confession in such a populated area. I didn't know you had it in you."

England seethed. "Bloody frog, shut your mouth," he hissed. "I'd sooner spit in that Yankee's burger and feed it to him before I do anything of the sort."

America shuddered, his breathing quickening. "Don't say that, Arthur."

England flinched at the quiver in his voice before France lolled his head to the side. "How bold. You are secretly dirty, non?"

The folder nearly slipped from England's hand in shock, ears catching fire. "You are trying my last nerve. I suggest you shut up and – stop giving me that look, Alfred, or I'll set flame to your cherished capital once again!" he shouted in a vain threat towards the mushy American trying to wipe the embarrassment off of his face.

America gasped at that. "Stop saying such personal things!" Alfred protested. England felt his throat constrict at the sight before feeling very helpless. America was twisting his words around again. Why did he do these sorts of things? They were so counterproductive.

"I-I'll be having none of this. Take your damn folder and choke on it!" England threw the papers in America's face, pivoting around and storming out the door before he could fully comprehend the groan coming from the blonde's lips.

As he briskly walked down the hallway, ignoring the curious glances to his flustered demeanor, England silently wondered how America had gotten so good at reading in-between the lines.

* * *

Author's Notes: Aw. England never expected America to be so smart and realize that his tsundere personality was out of love. : ) Just in case I couldn't get my point across, which I'm positive it wasn't as clear as I'd like it to be.


End file.
